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Parsha Perspectives: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back (Vayetzei)

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Yaakov received the blessings from his father but along with them, the scorn of his brother Esav. He fled to Charan to seek safety and sanctuary and a wife.

“And Jacob left Beer Sheba, and he went to Haran. And he arrived at the place and lodged there because the sun had set, and he took some of the stones of the place and placed [them] at his head, and he lay down in that place. (Genesis 28:10-11).”

The Talmud (Chullin 91b) paints a dramatic picture:

“And Jacob went out from Beersheba and went toward Haran.” And it is written thereafter: “And he encountered the place, and he slept there, because the sun had set.” When Jacob arrived at Haran, he said: Is it possible that I passed a place where my fathers prayed, and I did not pray there? When he set his mind to return, the land contracted for him. Immediately the verse states: “And he encountered the place,” indicating that he arrived there miraculously. When he had finished praying and he wanted to return to Haran, the Holy One, blessed be He, said: This righteous man came to my lodging place and he will depart without remaining overnight? Immediately, the sun set before its proper time so that Jacob would stay overnight in that place.

Yaakov passed right by Mount Moriah, the site of the Akeyda (biding of Isaac) and future site of the Beis HaMikdash. Only upon arriving in Charan did he realize his “mistake” and turned back around to return to this sacred site. The Chiddushei HaRim (Rav Yitzchak Meir Alter, 1799-1866) asks, “Why didn’t Yaakov pray at this sacred site when leaving the Land of Israel?  Why did he only realize the importance of praying in this spot after he had arrived in the city of Haran?”

The Rebbe answers with a profound insight. Yaakov maintained a constant focus on the goal at hand.  He was told by his parents to travel to his family, and that was the objective. Nothing else mattered. He possessed a singular focus – arrive at the house of Lavan, find refuge and safety from Esav, and hopefully, a life-partner.  Yaakov understood how easy it is to get distracted and lose direction.  He would not let anything, even Har HaMoriah, shift his focus from the objective at hand. Often, we begin down the path of accomplishment only to become sidetracked and distracted.  We lose sight of our original goal and can end up on a path which leads to nowhere. Yaakov teaches us the power of singular focus. Identify your goals and objectives, set your mind to accomplish them, and do not get distracted.

But there is a follow up lesson as well.  After all, upon reaching his desired destination, Yaakov turns around and goes back to Har HaMoriah. Yaakov possessed the trait of intentionality.  Intentionality means studying your patterns of behavior and deciding what you do and do not want to continue doing in the future. Leading an intentional life means, I do not just “go with the flow;” I decide what works and what does not. I decide what I should and should not be doing.  In the moment that Yaakov arrived in Charan, the city of Lavan, he realized that although he had stayed true to his goal, he missed out on an incredible opportunity – to pray at the site of his father’s near death experience and future site of the Beis HaMikdash. At that moment, Yaakov had a choice, he could say “oh well, better luck next time,” or he could actually do something about it.

Yaakov’s actions model for us a meaningful, two-pronged approach for successful living. First, stay focused. Identify your goals, dreams, and aspirations, and do not get distracted.  Do not let other things, even meaningful things, come between you and your primary life objectives.  Second, live life with intentionality. At times, I begin down a road because I think it is correct and meaningful.  At times, I work towards certain objectives and goals because they feel right and fulfilling, and I then realize I was wrong or that I am giving up too many other meaningful opportunities for this one pocket of meaning.  And then there are times when those endeavors which were important in the past may not be as important for my future. Find the strength to pivot. Find the strength to do things differently going forward. Find the strength to go backwards if it sets the stage for dramatic future growth.

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Parsha Perspectives: I Must Be Me (Toldos)

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It was a daring plan. Rivka ordered her younger son, Yaakov, to dress up and play the part of her older son, Esav, in order to receive the birthright blessings. Yaakov complied and brought his father a beautiful meal so as to put him in the right mindset to convey the berachos. The Torah describes the scene in great detail.

And he came to his father and said, “My father!” And he said, “Here I am. Who are you, my son?” And Jacob said to his father, “I am Esau your firstborn. I have done as you have spoken to me. Please rise, sit down, and eat of my game, so that your soul will bless me.” And Isaac said to his son, “How is it that you have found [it] so quickly, my son?” And he said, “Because the Lord your God prepared it before me.” And Isaac said to Jacob, “Please come closer, so that I may feel you, my son, whether you are really my son Esau or not (Genesis 27:19-21).”

Yitzchak was suspicious, something did not seem right, and he asked Yaakov to approach.

“So, Jacob drew near to Isaac his father, and he felt him, and he said, “The voice is the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands of Esau.” (Genesis 27:22).”

What was the meaning of Yitzchak’s statement, “The voice is the voice of Jacob?”  Rashi comments, “the voice of Jacob: who speaks entreatingly: “Please rise,” but Esau spoke harshly, “Let my father arise!”

Yaakov was almost discovered; the plan was almost ruined because Yaakov did not speak like Esav.  Yaakov spoke softly, Esav crudely. But why wouldn’t Yaakov try to replicate Esav’s speech? After all, Rashi indicates that it was not the pitch of Yaakov’s voice which aroused Yitzchak’s suspicion; it was the Yaakov’s soft word choice. If Yaakov was willing to dress like his brother, impersonate his brother, play the role of his brother – why not speak like him as well?

The Baal Shem Tov explains that Yaakov was willing to adapt in this strange and difficult situation. His mother asked him to do something which caused him profound discomfort. Rivka asked him to masquerade as Esav, to deceive his father, and Yaakov complied. Yaakov understood that life is complicated, and we must often adapt to new realities. We must sometimes change parts of our personality and lifestyle to meet certain life challenges. At times, we must yield to someone else when they ask us to do something necessary, even if it is uncomfortable. But at a certain point, I must draw my line. At a certain point, a person must say, I cannot sacrifice anymore. I cannot continue to make myself into the person you need me to be. I cannot yield any further. Because if I yield, change, sacrifice, or accommodate any more – I will no longer be me. Yaakov said, I will dress like my brother and pretend to be my brother – but I will not talk like Esav. Because the moment I speak like Esav is the moment I lose the last vestige of self. The moment I speak like him – I will no longer be me.

These words of the Baal Shem Tov resonate with such profound meaning. Life is filled with challenges. It can be challenges with family, professional challenges, or difficult interactions with others. When navigating these challenges, we are often called upon to make changes. I may have to yield to another (even if I am correct) for the sake of keeping the peace. There may be practices which are important to me but cause friction with others that I may have to give up. At times, I may have to develop a certain sternness (even if my natural disposition is to be kind and caring) in order to deal with difficult circumstances. Life changes us in so many ways, and at times, we must change ourselves to meet life’s challenges. But I must draw the line somewhere. I may be willing to change, yield, and give up certain things – but I can’t change, yield, and give up everything.  Because if I change everything about me to accommodate you – then I am no longer. I must identify those pieces of me which must remain intact and immutable. I must establish the areas in which I can yield and accommodate and the areas in which I will always stand my ground. I must be clear as to when I can bend to accommodate you and when I must stand up and continue to be me. Yaakov was willing to be a dutiful son and listen to his mother. He was willing to sacrifice many things, but he could not give up his entire sense of self; something of him had to remain unchanged. May we find the courage to know when to change and to know when to stand strong.

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Parsha Perspectives: The Danger of Thought (Chayei Sarah)

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And Sarah died in Kiryat Arba, which is Hebron, in the land of Canaan, and Abraham came to eulogize Sarah and to bewail her. And Abraham arose from before his dead, and he spoke to the sons of Heth, saying, “I am a stranger and an inhabitant with you. Give me burial property with you, so that I may bury my dead from before me (Genesis 23:2-4).”

Avraham had lost his beloved life partner. Sarah was by his side from the beginning. Before “Lech Lecha” when Avraham was a spiritual wanderer seeking out truth, Sarah was always there. When God commanded Avraham to leave all he had known, when upon entering Canaan they encountered famine and relocated to Egypt, throughout years of childlessness, all of the ups and downs, Sarah remained a devoted partner to her beloved Avraham. But it was now that Avraham had to say goodbye. It was upon him to see to the needs of her burial as this last display of love and honor in this world. Avraham came to Kiryat Arba “to eulogize Sarah and bewail (cry for) her.”

The Tiferes Shlomo (Rebbe of Radomsk, Rabbi Shlomo HaKohen Rabinovitch, 1801-1866) asks a simple question. “The verse tells us that Avraham came to eulogize and cry for Sarah, yet the very next verse says, “And Avraham arose from before his dead” and went to speak to the people of Heth. It would appear that although Avraham intended to eulogize and cry, he never actually did so. What happened? Why did Avraham refrain from eulogizing his beloved wife?” The Rebbe provides a profound answer. As Avraham prepared to begin eulogizing his precious partner, his mind began to fill with thoughts. “Sarah was so righteous and pious. She suffered so much throughout life, and yet, her belief never wavered.

She raised a most holy and virtuous son, a son who would ultimately take on the mantle of his father and continue to be the ambassador of God in this world. And now she is gone. God asked me to sacrifice my son, and Yitzchak and I went and willingly complied; isn’t that enough for you God? Must you take the other half of my soul as well?” Avraham felt a wave of anger, animosity, and resentment towards God, building inside of him. In that moment, he stopped. Avraham understood that I must keep these feelings in check and not allow them to overpower me. I do not understand the ways of God, but I know He loves me and that somehow this is all is for the best. Avraham never delivered a eulogy as he was fearful that his pain over the loss of his wife would taint his relationship with God. Thus, the verse indicates that he intended to eulogize and cry but stopped himself and attended to the details of Sarah Imeynu’s burial.

There are profound and meaningful lessons which emerge from the Rebbe’s words. Events occur in life which confound and perplex us. But like Avraham, we must learn to accept that the Divine plan will often appear illogical and random to us. However, we cannot allow this lack of clarity to tarnish or erode our relationship with our beloved Father. There is a time to question, but then comes the time to accept and move forward.

But there is a second lesson which is not limited to the realm of theological thought. At times, negative thoughts fill our heads and hearts. It can be a feeling of inadequacy, failure, or just a general feeling of not measuring up. At times we feel like damaged goods as a result of our past mistakes. These feelings can rob you of hope, optimism, and a desire to accomplish. Negative thoughts can overtake you to the point where you no longer sense any shred of personalistic good. Too often, we allow these negative thoughts to take control. We allow anger at ourselves or others to dominate relationships. We allow feelings of inadequacy to prevent us from trying new things. We must muster Avraham Avinu strength to identify the negative thoughts which can overtake and paralyze us, and we must shut them down.

While it is true that I cannot always control what swirls around in my mind, I can choose to allow those thoughts to dominate me or to find strength and push them to my internal periphery.

Our beloved matriarch, Sarah, never received her eulogy, but she received something much greater. Her death brought us the strength to continue our relationship with God even if we are beset by questions. Sarah’s death gives us the strength to let go of the negative thoughts which seek to hold us back. May the lives we lead and the accomplishments we accrue be an ongoing eulogy and zechus for our holy mother.

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Parsha Perspectives: Nameless and Famous

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Avraham sat outside his tent recovering from his circumcision. The Bris Milah was performed at an advanced age as the ultimate display of allegiance and commitment to God. On the third day of his recovery, the Ribbono Shel Olam, God comes to visit Avraham and performs the mitzvah of Bikur Cholim (visiting the sick).

Now the Lord appeared to him in the plains of Mamre, and he was sitting at the entrance of the tent when the day was hot (Genesis 18:1)

The great Chassidic master, Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev (1740-1810), asks why the verse states, “Now the Lord appeared to him.” Shouldn’t it read, “Now the Lord appeared to Avraham”? After the incredible sacrifice of the first patriarch, why not refer to him by name?

The Rebbe provides a mystical insight and explains that the letters of a person’s name are the utensils into which his or her personalistic holiness is gathered and contained. Each letter of one’s name is a kli (utensil) into which one’s conferred and acquired holiness is stored. But sometimes a person can do something of such great importance or accomplish something of such great magnitude that the letters of his name simply cannot contain all their acquired holiness. After Avraham had undergone circumcision, following his departure from his homeland and way of life and then sitting in the heat of day looking for opportunities for Hachnosas Orchim, hospitality, he had become so great that the letters of his name could not contain his personalistic holiness. Therefore, the Torah omits Avraham’s name, symbolizing his self-transcendent experience. Our first patriarch had simply grown beyond his name.

The power of a name is that it often captures our essence. In fact, the Arizal explains that parents are blessed with a spirit of prophecy when they name their child as the name has to fit the character and potential of the little baby. Yet, not even the parents know who this little person is or who he or she will become.

But names can also be limiting. At times we get used to being known by a certain name and identity, and we stop trying to grow and evolve. We must maximize our name and fill its letters with holiness and accomplishment, but at times, we must transcend our names and work to become someone new. Our first patriarch changed from Avram to Avraham and then from Avraham to “him.” He had accomplished so much until no name could describe or contain his holiness.

We go through life with many names. When we are born, our parents partner with God to find a suitable name which captures our yet unknown essence. As we get older, we acquire different names. I become a son, daughter, husband, wife, father, mother, friend, brother, and sister. And as the journey progresses, I acquire different names, perhaps, reflecting my career or accomplishments. Each of these names is important and meaningful. But I must be self-aware enough to know when the name I currently carry and am known by is holding me back and limiting my self-actualization. At times, the identity of my youth is not befitting my more mature years. Too many times in life, we live with the same identity long after we have truly outgrown it. I would never wear shoes which are two sizes too small, yet I live with an identity, with dreams and aspirations which are dated and need to be updated, reevaluated, and resized. My name is beautiful, but sometimes I outgrow it. It is in those moments that I must find the courage to find a new name and potentially live with no name as I create and cultivate my new identity.

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Parsha Perspectives: Living With God

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“And the Lord said to Abram, “Go forth (Lech Lecha) from your land and from your birthplace and from your father’s house, to the land that I will show you (Genesis 12:1).”

It is in this week’s Parsha that we are introduced to our first patriarch, Avraham. The life of a patriarch is filled with much challenge and sacrifice. The life of a patriarch is far from idyllic and serene. The life a patriarch is filled with upheaval and turbulence and yet, it is meaningful, fulfilling, and impactful. Avraham’s journey began with two words, “Lech Lecha (go forth)”, you must leave what you know and venture into the great unknown. Avraham’s journey is our journey; the journey of the Jew throughout the ages; the journey of the Jew into the vast unknown. But this great test was but one of ten. The Mishna in Pirkei Avos (5:3) states: Avraham was given ten tests and he passed them all …” We often assume that Lech Lecha was the first. However, the Bartenura (Rabbi Ovadiah Bartenura, 1445-1515) explains that the first test was “Ur Kasdim.” What happened in Ur Kasdim? Rashi (11:28) quotes the Midrash that tells the story of Avraham being handed over to Nimrod for judgement. Avraham had smashed idols and repudiated idolatry and was given an ultimatum – give up your monotheistic beliefs or be thrown into a fiery furnace. Avraham chose death over renouncing his faith and as a result was thrown into the fiery furnace. Miraculously, Avraham was saved. This, explains the Bartenura, was Avraham’s first test. But this begs an obvious question: Why isn’t this test mentioned in the text? The episode of Ur Kasdim is only mentioned in the Midrash. It is never once mentioned in the Genesis narrative. The test of Lech Lecha is told to us in great detail, yet there is no scriptural coverage of the test of Ur Kasdim. How are we to understand this glaring omission?

Rav Yisrael Meir Lau (current Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv, former Chief Rabbi of Israel) suggests a beautiful explanation. Throughout the ages, we have given our lives “Al Kiddush Hashem, (to sanctify the name of God).” Brave Jewish men, women, and children have given their lives rather than renounce their faith or give up their Torah. This ability to make the ultimate sacrifice for God is part of our religious and spiritual DNA. But there is something greater than dying Al Kiddush Hashem, and that is – living Al Kiddush Hashem. The greatest accomplishment for the Jew is to live each and every day in a way that is a credit to my Creator, my Torah, and my people. Dying for God is an incredible act of heroism, but you only have to summon the courage once. A greater accomplishment is Living for God as it requires me to summon the courage, optimism, and strength each and every day.

Avraham’s willingness to give his life at Ur Kasdim was an incredible display of spiritual heroism, but this is not the lesson God wants us to take from the life of Avraham or how we are meant to emulate him. Instead, our first exposure to Avraham is Lech Lecha. Lech Lecha was the test of living Al Kiddush Hashem. Lech Lecha was not a one-time command. Lech Lecha was God telling Avraham, “If you want to be great, you have to be willing to separate yourself from those things that hold you back. If you want to self-actualize, you need to be willing to stand alone. If you want to be holy, you must be ready to venture into the unknown.” Lech Lecha was the greatest test – the challenge of living Al Kiddush Hashem.

We find ourselves in the midst of challenging times. If a global pandemic weren’t enough, we are in the midst of a contentious election season. One of the greatest privileges we have as citizens of this great country is the right to vote. We each have a say in who the next leader of this great nation will be. This is a privilege we must exercise and take seriously. We also have the right to express our personal views and affiliations, but we must be careful to do so in a manner befitting a Jew. Our mandate is that everything we do and say must be a Kiddush Hashem. It is important for us to be involved in the political process, but we must articulate our views and positions without demeaning or belittling the other. We have seen people literally beating each other up over their differing political views. We have seen a profound erosion of basic human decency and behavior. We must be better. We must model the correct behavior as we are charged with being a light unto the nations. We must pray, learn, work, and vote Al Kiddush Hashem.

We stand in awe of those who have died Al Kiddush Hashem. We pay homage to those who made the ultimate sacrifice to preserve our faith, ideals, and way of life. But we are called upon to do something of even greater significance.  We must fight the good fight each and every day. We must make sure that what we do, how we behave, the interactions we have, the aspirations we possess, the goals we set, and the dreams we dream are a source of nachas for God and for ourselves. We must strive to live Al Kiddush Hashem.

May we each be privileged to find the strength to embark on our Lech Lecha journey, and may we find the resolve to make it to our promised land.

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Parsha Perspectives: Exercising Control (Noach)

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“These are the generations (toldos) of Noach, Noach was a righteous man; he was perfect in his generations; Noach walked with God.” (Genesis 6:9)

The commentaries point out something peculiar in this verse. Whenever it says, Eyleh toldos (these are the generations), we list of the name of the father followed by his offspring. As such, we would have expected the verse to list the sons of Noach.

Rashi comments, “Another explanation [for why the names of the children are not mentioned immediately following, “These are the generations of Noah”]: To teach you that the main generations [progeny] of the righteous are good deeds.”

With this simple statement, Rashi teaches us a powerful life lesson. The real offspring of the righteous are not their biological children but rather, their good deeds. You cannot control how your children turn out. Every parent has a responsibility to create a holy and wholesome home, model the right behavior, and lead by example. But at some point, the child leaves the home and must decide who he or she wants to be. I can do everything “right”, yet my child may choose something different. Eventually, every parent realizes, I cannot control my child’s decisions. But it is not just with our children. There are many things we like to control. And as we get older, we realize we simply cannot. Over the last number of months, we have truly learned what it means to lose control. Yet, there is one thing that I do control and that is, me. I control the person I want to become, the dreams I dream, and the aspirations I yearn to see materialize. I control if I work hard or if I hardly work. I control the attitude I have and the perspective I adopt. I control me. This is the deeper meaning of Rashi, Eyleh toldos Noach. What was the real offspring of Noach? What did Noach birth into this world? Noach. His true offspring, his true progeny was himself. Our greatest creation in this world is not our children, our careers, or our worldly accomplishments. Our greatest creation is our self. This is the only creation you truly control.

We spend so much time trying to control the things we cannot control while neglecting the things we can. We get upset when we people do not do what they were “supposed to do.” We get angry when circumstances do not materialize as they “should have.” I cannot control another person (even my own child), and I certainly cannot control many of the circumstances and situations which unfold around me. We must stop trying to control the uncontrollable, and instead, direct our efforts inward. We will have many types of offspring. We will hopefully be blessed with biological offspring, accomplishment offspring, and career offspring. But the most important offspring, the only one you really control and shape – is you.

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Parsha Perspectives: Let it Be Good (Bereishis)

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The Torah provides us with the rules, laws and framework through which to live a fully actualized life. The mitzvos are an expression of Divine will designed to help us attain personal holiness. Yet, this all-important Book of Laws doesn’t begin with instructions or commandments; it begins with a story. Not just any story. The story of creation.

We are told in great detail what God created on each day, culminating with Divine rest on Shabbos. It is a story we all know, yet, cannot comprehend. What is a “day” in the eyes of God? What does it mean to “create something from nothing?” Why include a story which the human mind cannot totally grasp and understand?

It is quite simple, actually. God teaches us how He built His world so that we may use the same strategies to build our own. We are each creators of our personal worlds. While it is true that we cannot choose so many of our circumstances, we create our reactions, we create relationships and we create many different realities. There are deep lessons embedded in the Genesis narrative that we can use to fashion and create meaningful lives and meaningful worlds.

“And God said, ‘Let there be an expanse in the midst of the water, and let it be a separation between water and water.’ And God made the expanse and it separated between the water that was below the expanse and the water that was above the expanse, and it was so. And God called the expanse Heaven, and it was evening, and it was morning, a second day.” (Bereishis 1:6-8)

The commentaries point out the glaring omission – this verse omits “and God saw all that He did, and it was good (ki tov).”

Rashi explains:

Now why does it not say, “that it was good” on the second day? Because the work involving the water was not completed until the third day, although He commenced it on the second day, and an unfinished thing is not in its fullness and its goodness; and on the third day, when He completed the work involving the water and He commenced and completed another work, He repeated therein “that it was good” twice (sic): once for the completion of the work of the second day and once for the completion of the work of that [third] day. — [Gen. Rabbah 4:6]

The verse is indicating that success is measured by results, not just effort. But this verse is describing God. God only says, “ki tov” (it was good) when the job is done, for He controls the results. Man says “ki tov” every time he expends the necessary effort. Although we are made in the image of God, we do not use the same metric for success. God’s success is measured by results, our success is measured by effort. There are many times in life when we try and fail. We have dreams and aspirations and despite herculean effort, they never materialize. We take on initiatives and projects and we find ourselves unable to carry through. In those moments, we lament the failure, wasted time and resources. But it is in those very moments of perceived failure that we must remember that any time we try, we succeed. “I am a creator. In my world, ‘ki tov’ is the phrase that describes meaningful effort. If I try to make my dreams a reality, if I expend the energy to move myself forward, I have created a ‘ki tov’ moment. I am not God, I can’t control the results, I can’t guarantee success, but I can always guarantee maximum effort.”

As we enter this beautiful and incredible new year, we each begin to create new worlds. For some we must deconstruct old worlds to make room for the new, others we’ll build and add to already existing worlds. Let us remember that our ultimate legacy is the effort we expend and not the results we attain.

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Succos: Salt & Water, the Simchas Beis HaShoeva

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In the times of the Beis HaMikdash, there was an incredible celebration during Chol HaMoed Succos called the Simchas Beis HaShoeva. The focus was on the service of nisuch hamayim (pouring of the water.) Throughout the year, there are many libations and sacrifices, but this specific service is unique to Succos. It sounds like a simple act, pouring water, and yet, the Gemara states, “Whoever has not seen the joy of the Simchas Beis HaShoeva has not seen true simcha (joy) in his lifetime.”

What is so celebratory about this service? The Shem MiShmuel (Rabbi Shmuel Bornsztain, the second Sochatchover Rebbe) gives an incredible explanation. He says that when Hashem created the sky, He separated between the celestial waters and the earthly waters. The earthly waters complained that they would no longer be close to God. Hashem said, “Don’t be upset. You will have two opportunities to connect with Me. The first will be the service of nisuch hamayim during the Simchas Beis HaShoeva on Succos, and the second will be that all sacrifices will have to be salted (salt comes from sea water).”

So why, asks the Sochatchover Rebbe, do we make such a celebration over the pouring of the waters, but not when we apply salt to the daily sacrificial offerings? He answers that in order to extract salt, part of the water must evaporate, which means it has already ascended. On Succos, we take the earthbound water in its entirety, and all of it rises to Hashem.

This is a metaphor for the Yomim Noraim. There are those who have been diligently working on themselves since the beginning of Elul, and so the process of their elevation happens over time. But for some of us, we are still stuck. Rosh Hashanah didn’t work, Aseres Yimei Teshuva didn’t work, Yom Kippur didn’t work. Finally, come Succos, we pour all the waters. It is never too late to begin the work of perfecting ourselves, address that which is broken, and fix that which has been in disrepair. Nisuch HaMayim represents those of us who could not complete the process during Elul and the Yomim Noraim, coming before Hashem saying – we still want to try.

Rebbe Nachman of Breslov says that the Sukkah has a special quality like Eretz Yisrael. When we walk into the Sukkah, we have a unique connection to Hashem. We come before God and tell Him that even if we still have work to do, our greatest desire is to have a relationship with Him. On Chol HaMoed, we put ourselves on the alter, and we resolve to build that relationship and commit to a life of service of God.

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Parsha Perspectives: The Greatest Song of All (Ha’azinu)

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האזינו השמים ואדברה ותשמע הארץ אמרי פי

“Listen, O heavens, and I will speak! And let the earth hear the words of my mouth!” (Devorim 32:1)

People relate to music in different ways. Some enjoy slow, melodic tunes which create the inner space for contemplation and introspection. Others enjoy upbeat and fast paced music which allows for a sense of simcha and excitement. Parshas Ha’azinu contains Moshe Rabbeinu’s shira, song.  But this song is neither slow nor fast, instead it is a song of testimony. As the nation prepares to enter the Land of Israel, Moshe has important information and direction he must share.  In this song of Ha’azinu, Moshe reminds the people of their responsibilities to themselves, their nation, and their God.  The Shira is filled with both joy and sadness. Joy over the beautiful connection we have with our Father, and sadness as there are times when we leave, forsake, and abandon Him. But despite the valleys and low points of the relationship, our collective heart is always with Hashem and we know that His Divine heart is always with us. The Maharal of Prague and the Maggid of Mezeritch stressed the importance of reciting the Song of Ha’azinu and knowing it by heart, “for it purifies the mind and heart ….”

But Shira is not simply a song. It is one of the most pure and beautiful expressions of love, devotion and commitment. Henry Giles, an English preacher in the mid-1800’s, wrote, “A song will outlive all sermons in the memory.” When there is a need to express something more profound than the simple meaning of spoken words, Shira begins where words end.

Why did Moshe choose to deliver his last messages in the form of a Shira?

Rabbi Aharon Soloveitchik of blessed memory, in his comments on Shiras HaYam (the song recited by the nation of Israel upon crossing the Red Sea), explains: “Shira is appropriate only when one attains a victory—and to be a victor one must actively participate in the struggle.” (The Warmth and the Light, Feldheim, p. 129)

Shira can only be sung when one has accomplished something of epic proportions. Shira is the melodic culmination of man’s work, toil, and struggle to accomplish a particular goal. In order to cross the sea, the people had to summon incredible inner strength and belief in themselves and God.  After walking into the roaring waves and emerging on the other side, they sang Shira reflecting their incredible spiritual accomplishment.

Perhaps this is why Moshe chose to conclude his life and begin the next chapter of the Jewish narrative with Shira. Moshe told the people: My children, you have triumphed. There were times during our forty-year journey when it looked as if we would not make it. There were times when you wanted to give up; there were times when I felt I could not go on. But you persevered, we persevered, and we stand just mere steps away from the realization of our destiny. You have made it this far, and I know that you can be successful in the future. My happiness and pride are so great that I cannot capture it in words. I choose to express it in Shira.

As we stand on the brink of a new, year there are many uncertainties. But one thing is certain – we will face challenges. There will be both national and individual hurdles and obstacles we must traverse.  May we find the strength to embrace and overcome our challenges. May we merit to lead lives of spiritual accomplishment. May we find the courage to create the melodic notes of our personal Shira.

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Rosh Hashana Perspectives: Time to Change

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We stand here on the verge of a new year, 5781. We each have dreams, desires, and aspirations that we hope to see fulfilled in the months ahead. It is in these final days of one year and the initial days of the new one that we look back and take stock of all that has occurred over the last year. I would venture to say that for most of us, the months before this past March are a blur, a distant memory. For after Purim, our world and our lives changed in such a dramatic way, making us forget all that came before. Our days and nights are filled with talk of coronavirus and its impact on our lives. Work, school, and really all aspects of life have been affected. Many of us have been distanced from family and the social relationships which we took for granted. “Social distance” is a term understood by everyone, and a mask has become an accessory which accompanies us wherever we go. For some of us, these last few months have made us stronger. The need to retreat within has created a greater self-awareness, stronger relationships with nuclear family, and even a rekindled spark of holiness. We have seen incredible acts of chessed and selfless dedication to the needs of the other – albeit at a distance. Yet, for others, the last few months have brought the sadness of loss, loss of loved ones, loss of connection, loss of joy. It is incredible to see how one microscopic particle can create opportunity for some and devastation for others. On a personal level, in March, as I watched our world change, I was sure I would change as well. As everything I had known for the last four decades began to evolve, I was sure I would too. But now, 7 months later, I do not feel I have experienced the positive change I thought I would. In fact, some days I feel that I have regressed. I find myself more impatient and agitated, and I am not sure why. Winston Churchill said, “Never let a good crisis go to waste.” Crisis presents us with the opportunity to rethink and reshape the way we live and who we are. I find myself fearful that this will pass (which IYH it will, and in just a little while it will be like a distant memory), and I will not have experienced the profound, metamorphic change that I had hoped to tap into.

But now it is Rosh Hashana, and we must reflect on how we lived this past year and make a plan for the year to come. We have two days where our core obligation is to think and ponder. What mistakes have I made, and how can I avoid repeating them? What strengths have I discovered, and how can I build on them? If the world changed as a result of this pandemic, how can I change as well?

Allow me to share with you some thoughts and reflections.

#1 The Importance of the Mask

Before this past March, masks were associated with superheroes and healthcare providers (who have actually taught us the true meaning of superheroes), and now they are part of our everyday lives. We do not leave the house without one, and if you are like me, you have a few in every important location.

The mask prevents the droplets which are expelled while we speak from spreading to others. What you say can have a dramatic impact on the other. Words are just words, we often say. Yet, we have come to see that too many unprotected words can cause illness within the other. With masks we measure our words more carefully. It is uncomfortable and at times incomprehensible to speak with a mask. We think before we speak. We have caused ourselves and others pain with our words. Whether negative words said about another, hurtful words said in a moment of anger, or self-deprecating words uttered from a lack of self-esteem or self-worth. The mask has taught the power of the spoken word. As we enter into the new year, let us pledge to use our words more carefully. Do not post something on Facebook or Twitter if it is harmful or hurtful. Do not make a joke that you may find humorous but may cause your fellow pain. When you have to critique or criticize, do so with love and compassion. But proper use of speech does not only manifest itself in holding your tongue. Give compliments and praise to those around. Tell your wife you love her and your children you are proud of them. Tell your friends how appreciative you are to have them in your life. Greet total strangers with a smile. We have lost the ability to communicate in an unfettered way. Let us use this as an opportunity to reframe how we speak.

#2 The Need to Distance

Everything in life is governed by 6 feet. It is how far we stand when conversing with friends and how much space is needed between our chairs in shul. We distance as we do not want to spread or contract illness. There are things in life which are toxic and unhealthy and often cannot be removed or eradicated. In these circumstances we must learn to distance. The individual in recovery must distance from the triggers which could lead to relapse. We all sin, we all make mistakes, we are human. But we must identify our weaknesses and find a way to distance ourselves from those realities, circumstances, and situations which lead to a dark place. It is not enough to stop sinning. Those who simply focus on the cessation of sin will inevitably relapse. This is because sin is not an isolated, self-contained event. It is the result or culmination of a smaller choices and decisions. The process of Teshuva demands that we look at how we arrived at the threshold of failure and work to plot a different course for the future. If I am not willing to change the exposures or circumstances of my life, I will fall off the wagon of Teshuva. I must find the courage to spiritually distance myself from those very things which lead me to an undesired journey of descent and personal failure.

#3 Search for the Vaccine

I have yet to hear someone say, “Let’s just leave the virus alone, it will all be ok. No need to spend so much money and time on a vaccine.” I think if most of us were to asked right now what we want most – it would a vaccine. We want to return to “normal,” we want our world back as we knew it. We are unwilling to leave the problem alone – we must find a solution. We must apply this desire for resolution and healing to our personal lives as well. Too often, when we have a problem, we simply allow it to fester. The problem may be obvious, yet I lack the conviction or drive to fix it. We are in relationships which are troubled, yet I do not want to do the work to fix them (even though I know what has to be done). We engage in behaviors which are detrimental and deleterious and yet, we don’t try to curb our appetite. We must create the vaccine for our life issues. Vaccines require trials and testing, and many times the drug fails to produce results. We often try to change, but then we fail. No vaccine is created on the first try. It takes time. teshuva takes time. At times, the vaccine progresses through all the different stages of testing but then fails in human clinical trials. There are times when I do teshuva, and all is working well, but when I try to implement this teshuva in my life – I fail. I must find the strength to start another clinical trial, or sometimes, the vaccine I thought would work, does not, and I must begin to work on something new. Do not resign yourself to your problems, dysfunctional behavior, or detrimental lifestyle. Find the courage to work on your vaccine of teshuva.

#4 Do not Live with Anxiety of the Unknown

If there is one thing coronavirus has taught us, it would be that we do not know what tomorrow brings. Life is filled with incredible opportunity, but there are no guarantees. I may plan my life but then something can happen which upends all of that planning. We have seen weddings which were planned for months, occur with a minyan in someone’s backyard. We have experienced lifecycle events which should have been celebrated or commemorated with throngs of people and yet were shared over zoom. Too often, we only embark on initiatives when we are guaranteed success. Truthfully, we don’t know what the next hour will bring. The only thing you control is the moment right in front of you. Seize it, maximize it, and don’t spend your time worrying about what will be.

#5 Take Responsibility for Your Children

We are truly fortunate that our local schools and yeshivos are open. For the last few months of the past school year, we saw our children engage in distance learning. Some schools created an organized plan for learning, and others did not. But one thing rang true in virtually every household (especially those with younger children), we had to roll up our sleeves and devote more attention to our children’s education. Whether it was help with devices or schoolwork, many of us received another education. We must remember that we are our children’s primary teachers. We send our children to school as we must pursue careers and may lack the pedagogical abilities and knowledge to teach our precious sons and daughters. But at the end of the day, my child’s primary chinuch (education) comes from me. I am responsible for instilling proper values and ethics within my child. It is I, the parent, who must teach my child proper middos and character. I must model for my child what it means to love Hashem, respect my fellow Jew, and live a life of inspiration. I must instill a work ethic and respect for elders and authority within my beautiful, precious child. We must rely on our schools and yeshivos to teach our children skills and information, fill them with confidence, and shower them with love and positive reinforcement. But the school is not the surrogate parent – the parent is the parent. We must parent our children with love yet discipline. We must set expectations yet be understanding of failure. We must teach them to be good Jews and citizens by modeling for them the correct behaviors.

#6 The Power of a Simple Gesture

Over the course of the last number of months, we have witnessed incredible acts of chessed (kindness) within our Kehilla and greater community. We have learned that chessed is not only a large check or a magnanimous self-sacrificing act. A phone call, text message, Erev Shabbos deliveries can be the difference in someone feeling connected, loved, and appreciated vs. feeling alone, marginalized, and forgotten. We must strive to build small acts of kindness into our daily lives. We must teach our children what it means to feel collective responsibility. We must avoid the temptation to be self-absorbed and forgetful of the other. There is nothing more important in the life of a Jew than being part of something bigger. Being part of a kehilla not only affords us the privilege of learning and davening, it creates the space for kindness and chessed. We must do for each other each and every day. Little things make a great difference.

As I go into Rosh Hashana, I am going to change. I will not let this crisis go to waste. I will become better, I will work harder, I will begin to think about what I need to do to make this coming year meaningful, fulfilling, and holy. I am ready to undertake this new journey – I hope you will join me.

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